


Leap of Faith

by chthonianCrocuta (lovesthesoundof), Daxolotl, EzzyAlpha



Series: The Progenitor's Daughter [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesthesoundof/pseuds/chthonianCrocuta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxolotl/pseuds/Daxolotl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyAlpha/pseuds/EzzyAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Centuries in the future, genetically engineered humans rule. Progenitors and their clones are the norm. Not fitting the norm makes you a target, and Rose doesn't come within a light year of normal. On a long-haul transport bound for the space station ProSPIT, she crosses paths with security officer Roxy-413 - and, through allowing her to give shape to her artificial days, lets her get rather too close for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Team Rose<3Roxy's entry for Main Round Two of the 2014 HSWC, for the theme "cycles". Written by chthonianCrocuta, with help from Daxolotl. Illustrations by EzzyAlpha; space backgrounds courtesy of NASA under their free use policy. Based on a concept created by chthonianCrocuta and Innsmouth for last year's team. Thanks to the rest of the team - incorrigibleIxoreus, Scribblescruff and urbanMystic - for backstage support and stalwart bonus round work.

Your name is ROSE. You are in SPACE, which is a notoriously LONELY place to be.

This morning - or what passes for a morning on a long-haul transport vessel - you're more lonely than you expected to be.

The crowd passes you by, unseeing, as you wait in the corner where two corridors meet. Solitude is hardly an unfamiliar state. You're a solitary beast by nature, by nurture, by necessity, by some combination of the aforementioned Ns. When a person carries as many secrets as you do, close relationships are a liability. You can only assume, therefore, that your intermittent craving for them is one of your many congenital defects.

Your mother always said it wasn't good for you to hide yourself away.

The fact that you have a mother at all, however, makes hiding a necessity.

As the crowd grows thicker with what passes for a morning rush, you search their faces. Three Harleys, talking animatedly about what might be nuclear physics, the same voice bouncing back and forth between them, the same laugh. Two Boy Striders, one after the other, studiously ignoring one another. Two Vriskas, one dark and one blonde, flanking a woman with fins and gills; she's joking with her bodyguards about something, dripping with gold that jingles with every gesture, every step. Must be a prototype-turned-progenitor if she's that wealthy. You wonder what the clones will be like.

No sign of Roxy.

You never agreed on this meeting place and time. It simply happened. She's been on the dog watch for the last three weeks of the voyage while you've been keeping as close to a diurnal schedule as you can. They don't even cycle the lighting level to simulate day and night – sensible on a spaceship, but you're used to living planetside and you of all people need a regular schedule. Irregular sleep or mealtimes will put stress on your body, and you already spend an hour in front of the mirror every morning trying to hide the blemishes no human-by-design would ever have. Clones, progenitors, even most prototypes – they're all closer to perfect than accidental you could ever be. The longer you can hide that, the better your prospects.

Still no sign of Roxy. It doesn't make sense. Ships run like clockwork. Personnel fall into routines dictated by the duty roster; unlike the passengers, who are more or less at their leisure, engineers and helmsmen and technicians can be relied upon to be in the same place at the same time every day. Until now, Roxy-413 from security was no exception. Her absence is jarring; it makes you question the accuracy of your watch. Have you overslept? Underslept? Will you suffer for it?

Belatedly, it occurs to you that you've been measuring a day as the interval between meetings with Roxy.

You head on to the mess hall. Your thoughts are running in a loop, replaying your previous meetings in search of some clue you might have missed. Nothing springs to mind. Instead, by the time you're eating imitation eggs on toast (with a trio of vitamin pills you wash down with fake apple juice) you're thinking about the way she looked at you the first time you met. It was a lull in the rush, just the two of you going in opposite directions, and she turned to look at you, to watch you pass. You remember the lurch in your stomach, the suspicion that she _knew_ what you were just by glancing at you. Ludicrous, but paranoia always sounds more sensible at the time – plus her age put her in the first Roxy batch, back before they changed the law, so her capabilities are in what's now defined as the “illegally superhuman” range. Perhaps she _could_ tell there was something wrong with you.

But that wasn't what the look she gave you was saying, and you left the corridor with an involuntary little smile and the knowledge, the Sight, of her eyes on your retreating back.

The next time you passed, she smiled at you and said “hey”.

Your answer stuck fast in your throat.

Once breakfast is out of the way you wander up to the aeroponics deck. Sitting in a secluded corner of the passenger area with your hubtopband reminds you of working in your mother's conservatory, surrounded by mutated potted plants. At least here there's nobody to put amusing wizard hats on the cacti.

You never expected to miss her.

Hours pass. You get through three drafts of a cover letter to a possible employer (Teiresias-1 is looking for a lightbearer psychic for her precognition team on ProSPIT) and between four and six pages of self-indulgent logorrheic bullshit (you're trying to write a novel again) before finally admitting to yourself, silently, that something is off. Whether it was Roxy's absence or just the break in your usual schedule, you feel _wrong_ about today and you don't know how to salvage it.

“Hey.”

The voice startles you sufficiently that your hubtopband picks up half a line of all-caps gibberish, a phenomenon your mother inexplicably calls a “mental keysmash”, before you manage to switch it off and look up...at Roxy. Who is standing directly in front of you. Out of uniform. Smiling.

“Dude, I am _so_ sorry I missed you. They cycled me to the morning watch so I am literally just done with work and you said you come here to write, so...I...thought...I'd...look for you. Or something.”

She's shifting awkwardly. Oh, god, you'd better say something. “It's all right. I...admit I hadn't considered that you might have changed shifts. ...It's good to see you.” It _is_ good to see her. A lot better than you planned on. Oh, god, no. You can't be attracted to _her_. That would be the _worst_ thing you could do.

But, judging by the swarm of butterflies that rush through your chest and stomach when she beams at you, you're doing it anyway.

“You too. Oh my god. I – I didn't even know if I was gonna find you – ...Say, have you got any plans for dinner tonight? I'd just – we've only been able to talk for a few minutes a day, opposite sleep cycles and shit, so I'd just...kinda like to get to know you better, y'know? If that's cool with you.”

You feel suddenly cold. Dinner with Roxy sounds like the best and worst thing you could do with your evening, and you don't even try to See how it would turn out. You get to your feet, shakily. “I have plans this evening. I'm sorry.”

She shrugs, but her smile looks sad. Shit. You didn't plan on her liking _you_ this much either. “No problem, just figured I'd ask. You have fun, okay? I'll probably catch you tomorrow anyways.”

You mumble something about hoping so, and flee.

Back in your quarters, you set up your computer rig over your bed and settle in, telling yourself you're neither panicking nor sulking. You're not convincing. Fortunately Calliope's online. You've known her since her creation – she's your mother's great masterwork, won her half a dozen prizes for creative sequencing, and you're your mother's greatest mistake. The irony has never escaped either of you, but nevertheless you're close. She'd probably have been like a sister to you, back in the days before “sister” was a dirty word.

TT: Calliope?   
UU: hello!  
UU: i don't UsUally see yoU Until mUch later... is everything all right?   
TT: I'm not sure. Can we talk? It's not about anything between us, before you worry; you've been a stellar source of comfort in these trying times.   
UU: how kind of yoU! ^u^  
UU: of coUrse we can talk. why don't yoU start at the beginning?   
TT: The beginning?  
TT: I'm not sure when that was. Perhaps the moment I first laid eyes on her.  
TT: Pardon me, that was excessively melodramatic.  
TT: At any rate, the current situation is that There's This Girl, as the saying goes, and I think she's getting too close to me.  
TT: Which would probably be fine, if I didn't also strongly suspect I might want her to get even closer.   
UU: ahh.  
UU: well, natUrally i'm highly Unlikely to be any Use to yoU in the field of relationships, bUt i strongly sUspect it isn't *me* you want to talk to so mUch as i'm yoUr only option!   
TT: Not to seem cold, but you're right. I'm sorry.   
UU: don't be! i jUst wish i coUld offer yoU more than Useless platitUdes pUnctUated by excessively cUte emotes.   
TT: Don't underestimate the value of a listening ear, Calliope. I'm glad you're here. Truly.   
UU: thank yoU, rose. yoU're excessively kind to me. bUt that's qUite enoUgh aboUt me! tell me aboUt this woman of yoUr acqUaintance... 

So you tell her, over the course of about half an hour, about the whole sordid mess of it, from the first fateful glance to the latest catastrophic excuse for an aborted rendezvous, and by the end of it you're feeling...if not better, at least a little less raw.

TT: You see my problem.   
UU: indeed i do!  
UU: mUch as i've tried to persUade yoU to pUrsUe personal entanglements in the past, i can Understand yoUr hesitation in this particUlar case.   
TT: Exactly. The list of reasons why I shouldn't get involved with her is probably longer than I am tall – which I know isn't especially difficult, but nevertheless.  
TT: She intends to spend at least some time on ProSPIT. If anything between us should turn sour, should she have any of my particular secrets in her possession at the time she could effectively end any hope I might have of future employment on the station.  
TT: No one wants to hire an organic, no matter whose fuckchild they are.  
TT: Not to mention the fact that I'm living proof of her own progenitor's indiscretions.   
UU: clones do tend to react poorly to an insUlt to their line, yes – bUt she may not view yoU as sUch!  
UU: in fact, her attraction to yoU is probably dUe in part to yoUr shared genetics! in the absence of the westermarck effect, the attraction to familiar featUres wins oUt.   
TT: GSA, of course. Would that explain my attraction to her as well, or should the fact that I grew up with her genetic twin have rendered it moot?   
UU: westermarck by proxy?  
UU: good qUestion! :U  
UU: yoU are a rare living stUdy of the possibility! with a sample size of one, who can say what is and is not the UsUal manner of things?   
TT: I think you've been spending too much time with that Harley of yours.   
UU: one can never spend too mUch time with jade! she is instrUcting me in the ancient and noble art of walkies! ^u^

Despite yourself you chuckle. The smile lingers for a moment before fading into melancholy.

TT: I miss you.   
UU: i miss yoU too, rose.  
UU: what are yoU going to do about roxy-413? have yoU reached a decision?   
TT: There's only one decision I can make, really. I just don't particularly like it.   
UU: she has to go, doesn't she. u_u  
TT: Yes. She has to go.  
TT: I just don't know how I'm going to tell her. 

In a spectacular display of dramatic timing, your doorchime chooses that moment to tweet cheerfully at you. You wrinkle your nose.

TT: There's someone at the door. One moment, please. 

As you open the door you feel one moment sliding into several. It's Roxy.

“Hey.”

You think she might be blushing. And she's brought you a rose.

“I, uh...Harley in aeroponics owes me a favour, so I...shit. Look. I know you were brushing me off today. – That's fine, it's your call. I just wanted you to know that I...have spent the last three weeks getting through tough days by thinking about spending three minutes in a corridor with you. You...as cheesy as this sounds, you were...the light at the end. And I just wanted to...thank you. For that. ...For everything."

God, no matter what you say it'll be a spectacularly poor decision. You take a breath –

Red lights flash in the corridor. Alarms blare from everywhere. Roxy, wide-eyed, presses the rose into your hand.

“I gotta go. _Stay put_.”

The door swishes shut, leaving you alone with a rose and a dumbfounded expression. To your credit you shake yourself out of it quickly and return to your computer.

TT: Back now.  
TT: It was Roxy.   
UU: dare one enqUire as to how that went?   
TT: She brought me a rose and now the ship is at red alert. As far as I can tell, the two events are unrelated.   
UU: what?! <:U

There's a hiss and a clunk, and the lights on your door turn red, then go out.

TT: And now my door is sealed. Wonderful. Perhaps they'll deign to explain themselves sooner or later.   
UU: they still haven't told yoU what all this is aboUt?   
TT: No. I think the shipwide tannoy is malfunctioning; I can hear the speaker crackling.  
TT: Ah, just a moment, incoming message. Hopefully this is it. 

You switch away from Calliope's window, only to be greeted by unfamiliar pink text.

TG: rose?  
TG: its 413  
TG: we got company  
TT: How did you get this username?  
TT: No, sorry, that was an unfathomably stupid question to ask of a security officer and I move it be stricken from the record.   
TG: motion passed  
TT: Thank you. What's happening?   
TG: pir8s  
TT: Pirates?   
TG: yeah think pirates under mindfang-a management

Mindfang-A. The Aranea line. The pirate – excuse you – the pir8 captain is an Aranea. You close your eyes with a thought of dismay, and when you open them the headset has put words to it.

TT: Oh, no.  
TG: yeeup  
TG: would prolly all have been fine if some smart fucker on the bridge hadnt cut her off mid-monologue  
TG: but u know what happens when u insult a mindfang  
TT: Psychotic rage, usually.  
TT: I'm assuming that's why my door is locked.   
TG: yeah civilians get locked in 4 their own safety when theres a chance well be boarded  
TG: which is sorta the problem im dealin with right now  
TG: rest of the security teams on the other side of the ship  
TG: just me here  
TG: facin down an entire boarding party in cargo bay 3  
TG: & that last salvo knocked out enough systems they cant get me any backup  
TG: kinda hoped ur special seer powers could help me out here  
TG: by which i mean ur literally the only hope i got  
TT: So no pressure, then.  
TG: nope no pressure  
TG: just  
TG: if u could See ur way clear 2 savin my fine ass  
TG: said ass would appreciate that a whole bunch

When she puts it that way, you haven't much of a choice.

TT: Right.  
TT: Give me access to the security cameras. I can't See as well if I can't see.   
TG: 2 secs  
TG: patchin u in

To her credit, it does only take her about two seconds to get you a visual. She's hiding behind a crate, armoured, armed with a pulse rifle. You run a quick head count as the boarding party moves through the cargo bay . Eight. Of course there’d be eight of them. Mindfang-As are as predictable as they are obnoxious.

TG: can u see them?   
TT: Yes.   
TT: Eight individuals. They're trying to open the cargo containers.   
TG: figures  
TG: got me an opening?   
TT: Working. 

You scan the room. Open the airlock? No, the boarders are all wearing full suits; oxygen on board. They're carrying high-grade, heavy-duty pulse rifles with overcharge packs, but their armour is light – hazard, not combat. Easy to pierce with a clean shot. And it's old, refurbished but not heavily refitted. They weren't expecting resistance, just civilians. No night-vision equipment on their helmet. Probably no HUD at all -

...Night-vision.

TT: Got it.  
TT: Their suits don't include night-vision gear.   
TG: oh right because civilian transport  
TG: good lightin etc  
TG: ok if i kill the lights can u spot 4 me?  
TG: cameras will switch 2 ir  
TT: My thoughts exactly. 

Without further discussion Roxy rises, brings her rifle around and fires once. There’s a flash on the screen from her weapon discharging, then darkness. The cameras switch to infrared.

Damn, she's a good shot.

TG: theres a lotta yelling right now  
TG: call em as u see em  
TT: Three on the right, next to a cargo container. Four on the left – two looking towards your cover for the shot, one fumbling around, last one searching her kit. Flare, maybe? One in the middle, shouting.   
TG: ok just need a direction 4 the first 1  
TG: muzzle flashll do the rest  
TT: Okay. One at 10:30, maybe 10:45. Half behind cover, weapon pointed in your general direction. Another at 11, aiming well to your left.   
TG: thats all i need

She rises. Her rifle flares. A lance of pure light and heat strikes the first target through his helmet. She turns, fires again before he heat of her first shot has begun to fade. The second shot slices clean through a pirate's neck. The third shot hits a boarder trying to strike a flare. She’s dead before her friends hit the ground.

Three deaths in the space of five seconds.

The others react. Returning fire whites out your visual. You try to shift the cameras back to normal spectrum, fail, curse aloud. A fresh wave of incandescence covers your screen. You shut your eyes tight and See...

...light.

The shooting stops. The cameras begin to clear. You make out someone walking through the afterimages.

TG: ok i count 8 bodies & no movement

Roxy. She's alive.

And she - _you_ \- just killed eight people.

TG: rose?  
TG: u there?   
TT: Sorry. I just needed a moment to compose myself.   
TG: right sorry  
TG: when u get military 101 written into ur cortex before u leave the tank u sorta  
TG: forget not every1 is combat trained  
TG: gonna be ok? 

You're swallowing back bile, and you suspect you won't be _remotely_ okay when all of this sinks in, but for now you're surviving. Just like watching a violent movie.

TT: Eventually. We need to do more if they're going to break off their attack.  
TT: One of the grappling arms is attached about fifty meters from the airlock exit. Head there.   
TG: right

As she exits through the airlock, you wrest control of the cameras. There's an external one that gets you a decent visual, just in time to watch Roxy's magnetised boots take the last few steps toward the enemy ship's grappling arm.

TG: ok im @ the grappler  
TG: can u still see me or are the external cameras out  
TT: No, I've got you.  
TT: There should be a panel on the left that's loose; it's missing something, I can't See what.   
TG: got it  
TG: missing bolt here  
TG: right thats open  
TT: Good. Take the loose cable on your right and use it to overload the system. It'll cause some sort of chain reaction in their systems.   
TG: wat  
TT: Trust me, you won't be harmed.   
TG: but u have legit zero idea what its gonna do  
TT: Something good for us and bad for them.   
TG: but beyond that u got no idea right?   
TT: Absolutely none, but that's about par for the course. Does it or does it not usually overload a system when you introduce a live wire?   
TG: yeah in principle this idea checks out  
TG: but in practice its a LIVE FUCKIN WIRE  
TT: And your suit is rated for contact with how many thousand volts?   
TG: shit dont make me quote that  
TG: but now u mention it  
TT: I told you, this will work. But if you don't do it quickly, they're going to realise their boarding parties are dead and start firing on us again and I don't know where that leads.   
TG: nowhere good  
TG: u srsly fly by the seat of ur pants like this the whole time + it works?   
TT: Yes.  
TT: I can feel it, Roxy. If you act now, we all live. Trust me. You can do this.   
TG: yeah if im super lucky  
TT: I'm a Seer. Your luck is under new management.  
TT: Grab the cable. 

She finally obeys. You watch sparks play at the end of the wire. You're right about this. You _Know_ you are. Your heart doesn't need to be in your throat, thanks.

TG: do i just  
TT: Yes.   
TG: ok  
TG: cross ur seerly fingers

Despite yourself, you do.

Roxy jams the wire into the exposed circuitry. The enemy ship's running lights flicker, sputter. One or two visibly blow out. The paths of the future give a sickening lurch – they're ditching the grappling arm. Roxy must've damaged it beyond repair.

They're moving away.

Roxy turns to the camera, and you can See the look of awe in her eyes.

TG: holy shit  
TG: that wAS AWESOME  
TG: OMFG  
TG: we blew out like six systems & theyre down a grappler & runnin  
TG: ur a goddamn miracle u no that? 

You almost tell her that's what your mother used to say.

TT: I have been told so on a few occasions.  
TT: But thank you.   
TG: so  
TG: got any more schrödingers dinner plans tomorrow or

Your hands answer for you.

TT: Not unless you'd like to make some for me.   
TG: hell yes i would  
TT: Then let's do that.  
TT: After you see someone in the infirmary about your unscheduled space walk.   
TG: walk?  
TG: more like a space charleston  
TG: mighty ro-413 & her spiritual dance partner dancin all over nefarious piratical schemes like a pair of motherfuckin bosses  
TG: gonna need me a new ass cuz i just danced this one off  
TT: All the more reason to check in with the medics.   
TG: i will i promise  
TG: got vriska-358 from systems on the other line screamin @ me to “isol8 the damn ca8les 8efore they 8r8k shit”  
TG: so imma do that 1st & ttyl  
TT: Very well. I would h8 for you to be eviscer8ed after such a daring display.   
TG: daring my fantastic ass  
TG: ...  
TG: which i danced off  
TG: shit  
TG: my fantastic EX-ass which fell nobly in the line of duty  
TG: like u said  
TG: my luck was in good hands <3

And now you're blushing. And smiling. Oh, God, this is such a bad idea – but you can sit in your quarters and try to See how badly it all turns out, or you can just...live. _Really_ fly by the seat of your pants for once instead of flipping to the back of life's book for all the answers.

You stare at the little “<3” for a moment before closing the window – oh, bugger, of course. Callie. You didn't tell her what was going on.

UU: rose?  
UU: what's happening? i'm rather concerned!   
TT: Sorry about that. I'm back now.   
UU: are yoU all right? what happened? <:U

_I took a leap of faith,_ you think to yourself. There's a sudden lightness inside your chest, as if you're in free-fall. For the first time in your life, that feels exhilarating.

TT: A lot of things. I promise I'm fine, though; I'm just not sure where to start.   
UU: start at the beginning!  
UU: and when yoU come to the conclUsion...stop! ^u^  
TT: Very well.  
TT: Our story begins, as many good stories do, with pirates... 


End file.
